Sparring
by Silk Weaver
Summary: Some habits are hard to give up, even when you don't need them any more, but Cid and Vincent don't mind. Oneshot. Still fluff. Cid x Vincent


Author's Note: Well, this isn't the valenwind that I started on at first, but I like this one batter, I think. It was much easier to put them in this situation. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to write a "dark" fic with the two of them..

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**Sparring**

Cid x Vincent

They weren't going to admit it to anyone but each other, but both Cid and Vincent missed the time during Meteor. When any of the others mentioned trailing Sephiroth with anything close to nostalgia, they would make a sardonic comment about trapaising around the Planet with the most eclectic group of misfits Cloud could find.

But even if the two of them dismissed AVALANCHE's adventures, they did miss it, in a way. They didn't miss the threat to the Planet, of course, of the constant tiring traveling. No one missed collapsing into bed each night covered in blood and gore, or the fear that they could all die, and with them the Planet itself. All they had to do was remember the ruins of Midgar, and the weary way that Cloud carried himself, and they never wanted the danger to come again.

The mindset that came with that time is what they miss most. The possibility of death gave each day a reckless quality and made them use every moment. Everyone had fewer inhibitions. There were no worries about a far future that might not happen. The promises they made, the bonds they formed, might have been made for what would probably be a short time, but they had been for life, and they weren't all dead yet. Vincent reasons that this is why AVALANCHE is at its best during a battle, and can never have a conversation without at least one disagreement. Cid points out that their whole relationship is a result of that tine during Meteor.

In short, it was simpler then. There was a clear, if short, future, and they had a purpose. There were no distractions. That was what Cid and Vincent missed most about the journey, even if they like their quiet life in Rocket Town and occasional traveling on Cid's airship. It's much calmer to stay in the house with Shera to take care of them, and to only deal with AVALANCHE a few days a month, instead of 24/7. They would be content to live the rest of their lives like this.

Restlessness is only showed in a small way. Every day, if they can help it, they go into the backyard and spar. Shera is both exasperated and worried by it, and has chalked up the practice fights to testosterone. She has given up trying to stop them, but she insists that they keep a Cure Materia on hand, after one occasion when Cid's nose was nearly broken, and another time when Vincent was stabbed in the leg.

So far Cid was winning the day's match. Vincent was constantly being driven off by the longer reach of the pilot's spear. All of the moves the ex-Turk tried to pull thus far had been thwarted with unusual ingenuity on Cid's part. The mechanic had no qualms about gloating about it, either.

"Hah!" That the best you can do, Vince?" Cid smirked as a blow from the shaft of his weapon sent Vincent skidding. He adjusted his goggles and wiped sweat off of his face so that neither would get in his eyes at a bad moment. He would be damned if he ever lost a match with Vincent Valentine because of a stupid thing like that.

Vincent glared at his lover, but gave no other response. The ex-Turk was not using his guns this time, and it had put him at a disadvantage. Using his claw meant he had to get close in order to attack, which also meant that he needed to get around Venus Gospel to do it. It was not proving to be an easy task.

There was a blur of black as Vincent leaped forward once again. Cid brought up the Venus Gospel, ready to once again block, or move in to attack. The pilot was still smirking though Vincent's annoyed expression had fallen away into a blank mask. That would have registered as a bad sign, if Cid had paid any attention to it, but he was too confident.

As soon as the ex-Turk was close Cid swung his spear, intending to knock Vincent back as he had done before. Vincent simply twisted to the side and easily avoided the blow.

It only took the pilot a moment to realize that he had misjudged Vincent once again and to try and bring the spear up, but it was too late to do anything more. Vincent pounced on him and sent them both onto the ground.

Upon recovering from the rather hard fall, Cid gave Vincent the best glare he could. It didn't seem to work very well, since Vincent stayed lying on top of him, wearing a smug expression. Cid could feel the cold metal of his gauntlet at his nick and only scowled more. "Bastard," he growled, and Vincent moved the claw closer to his throat. He didn't get off of Cid at all- he actually stretched out further on top of the pilot.

"Do you forfeit?" Vincent asked, keeping his gauntlet pressed up under Cid's jaw. His eyes narrowed slyly and Cid was, for some reason, reminded of a very satisfied cat.

Cid didn't want to give up, but he had dropped his spear as he fell, and it was now out of reach. He huffed a shallow sigh (Vincent was still lying across him) and glared. "A'right, Vince, you win," he admitted grudgingly. "Now get offa me. You're damn heavy."

The claws were removed, but Vincent continued to use Cid as a pillow. The gunman's long limbs had somehow gotten into all the right positions to dig into Cid and make the pilot squirm. Vincent seemed unaware of Cid's discomfort. "You are getting sloppy, Highwind," the pale man said, and propped himself up on his elbows.

Having Vincent's arms pushing down on his chest made Cid wince. "Hey, we aren't all fuckin' enhanced like you are," he growled. " 'Sides, I was winning that!"

"'Was' being the key word," Vincent replied, smirking down at Cid. It showed how for the ex-Turk had come, that he took the reminder of his past without flinching. Instead, he grinned smugly down at the pilot, satisfied that he had once won their sparring match once again. "Really, Cid. It's just training. You don't need to try so hard to win."

For now, though, Cid was more annoyed at Vincent than proud of him. "Says the guy who always wins!" he protested. The mechanic tried to sit up, only to be stopped by the gunman pushing him down once again. "Dammit, Vince! Let me up!" he snapped. "I ain't a fuckin' mattress!" Having his whole body pressed into the ground was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Not yet," Vincent said impishly. "I haven't gotten my prize for winning."

Cid opened his mouth to give Vincent an angry "what the hell" and demand to know what prize the gunman was talking about, but Vincent moved in before he could get a word out. It was hard to talk with Vincent's mouth pressed against his, and thinking wasn't really that easy. He didn't bother trying.

When they broke apart for air, Vincent was still smirking, but Cid didn't mind it so much any more. "I'm still not going to let you win," he told Vincent stubbornly.

Vincent just rolled his eyes. "We'll see," he replied neutrally. "In the meantime…" Both of them were eager to restart the kiss.

_Of course, Shera had to choose that moment to come out and check on them. _


End file.
